


a.

by koyangee



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Original Characters - Freeform, Sad Blowjobs, Sexual exploration, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 18:00:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16142534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koyangee/pseuds/koyangee
Summary: Sorta friends Imogen and Adrien spend their last arranged 'playdate' together sharing feelings and pushing boundaries.





	a.

**Author's Note:**

> A drabble I did in one sitting a couple of years back. It's centered around mine and friend's ocs who i really like :") 
> 
> I'd like to add more of my writing onto here, so i'm going through some of my old google docs and editing/continuing some! this is the first one that i thought was good enough to share. 
> 
> TW: moody teenage boys and a sad sloppy blowjob [in case you're sensitive about them being under 18! though it's not too explicit?]

He’d noticed his friend’s distress before he’d even said anything. _His friend_ , he mused, was probably too liberal of a title. Associate, maybe. A colleague he would spend preordained time with, at the behest of their parents.

 

_Adrien Benoît_ was his name, the prodigal son of the Benoît family; much like Imogen was to the Walsh family. Being around the same age and class, it was to be expected that their parents would arrange their friendship. Their similarities seemed to end there, though. Imogen was proper and composed while Adrien was a rebel, someone that did things without care for the consequences. He doubted they would have interacted without the parental incentive.

 

That wasn’t to say Imogen minded the other boy so much. Though they were content to spend their time together alone, separated while in the same room, he didn’t particularly find Adrien bothersome. The quiet was actually something he looked forward to after having spent weeks at work or in study. He hardly ever got a minute to just read without people prodding him. It was relieving the way they could get on without ever actually engaging in too much activity. In a way, he’d grown used to their bi weekly playdates and the calm air that Adrien brought with him.

 

His repose had come to a halt on the day of their last date. His _associate_ was distressed, the usual calm of his mind frayed with worry. It had become too distracting for him to read and he shut his paperback with an inward sigh. While Imogen wasn’t particularly empathetic he did have a hard time ignoring prevalent surface thoughts:

 

_Desiree_ . _Gone. Lonely._

 

Even though Adrien hadn’t said anything to him, his frantic feelings were enough for him to understand the situation. It would have usually been out of place for Imogen to pry. For him to try and get personal with the other boy. They weren’t friends, after all. But in this instance, as he sat at the balcony table looking in on a supposedly resting Adrien, he felt compelled to do something.

 

Imogen stood from his seat, the pristine white of a sculpted chair, and pushed it into the equally delicate table. Proper and tidy. He brushed past the sheer curtains as they shifted lazily in the calm wind, nearly picturesque. His bedroom was spacious, cherubic whites and soft blues; lace and frills, _predetermined aristocracy_. It seemed artificial in comparison to the vibrancy of Adrien’s disposition.

 

His blue gaze spared the floor a glance, uncertainty holding him there for a moment. He could still walk back to his book. Enjoy the mild weather and avoid getting too personal. Avoid traipsing over their unspoken rule of not getting too close to each other.

 

He could have, but something akin to curiosity spurred him on.

 

Imogen cleared his throat softly, attempting to claim the younger boy’s attention. He folded his hands behind his back, keeping a respectable distance. Adrien was receptive enough to turn his head just enough to look over his shoulder; drooping eyes aimed at his peer in question.

 

“If I might be so forward,” Imogen began gently, “you seem to be in quite the stupor.”

 

A good attempt at breaking the ice.

 

Adrien’s head plopped back onto the cushion, replying with a grunt. He kept his back to Imogen still, an unfamiliar stiffness squaring his shoulders. The psychic frowned, prim stance falling a little.

 

A second approach, then.

 

“May I sit with you?”

 

A moment of contemplative silence before the boy pushed himself up and patted the space next to him; his legs swung over the [ chaise ](http://kinggeorgehomes.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/06/furniture-vintage-white-leather-victorian-chaise-lounge-sofa-with-black-wooden-frame-and-high-legs-for-rustic-living-room-ideas-victorian-sofa-black-victorian-sofa-victorian-chaise-lounge.jpg) sofa. He finally spoke up, a small; “It’s _your_ room.”

 

Imogen took the seat gracefully, hands gathered neatly in his lap.

 

“If there’s something bothering you, I wouldn’t be averse to lending you an ear.”

 

His attempt at camaraderie was met with a small snort of disbelief. Adrien peered at him from his hunched over position, likely to gauge how serious Imogen was. He looked away, supposedly to compose himself and his thoughts. They were, after all, quite the mess.

 

“. . How much did you already hear?” Adrien asked.

 

“You know I would never delve into your mind -” Imogen tried to reassure him.

 

“I didn’t say you would. But it isn’t like you can help hearin’ some things, right?” He looked at the older boy, as if to challenge him. Imogen stared back before breathing out a sigh.

 

“You’re upset over your friend, Desiree, leaving for Hoenn.” He raised a hand to shush Adrien as he opened his mouth to speak, “Your _best_ friend.” Imogen corrected himself, placating Adrien.

 

The blue haired teen leaned back, propping himself up with outstretched arms.

 

“If you already know what’s bothering me, why’d you even bother ta ask.” A redundant question finished off with a lazy shrug and an uninterested scowl. Imogen met the frown with his own.

 

“It’s polite to ask.”

 

“Pft.” Another dismissive noise.

 

They sat in silence then, a lull that was neither comforting nor uncomfortable. They weren’t friends, after all. There was no need to push each other further. Imogen stared across the room as Adrien kept his eyes on the ceiling. The stillness of the room was swept up with an admission from the younger party:

 

“I’m leaving.”

 

Another brief pause followed, a quiet mulling over those two words. Imogen finally looked at him.

 

“Beg pardon?” His white brows pulled together.

 

“I’m leaving Kalos.” Adrien said it in such a matter of fact tone, as if it wasn’t something surprising. Like it was the most natural of statements. For all of his mental prowess, Imogen couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the other boy’s meaning. Adrien returned his confused look with one of clarity. “For Hoenn.”

 

The third pregnant pause in their ‘discussion’ began. They didn’t look away from each other the whole time.

 

Adrien was leaving.. for Hoenn? Desiree had moved to Hoenn. It was a simple “ah” sort of moment, the information finally clicking into place. _Lonely_. Adrien was lonely. Of course, Imogen reflected, he wanted to be with his best friend. Friendship was important to adolescence; to people. And Imogen, no matter how long they had known one another, was not Adrien’s friend.

 

Imogen broke eye contact first.

 

“I see..” He responded with lackluster, something that Adrien picked up on.

 

“What, are you gonna miss me?” The boy teased, a slow grin working its way onto his face. He leaned forward then, peering at the older boy with a smug expression. Imogen straightened up indignantly, a sudden bout of childishness ruining his poise.

 

“Of course not. While I appreciate our time together, I do believe this is for the best. You’ll be far happier in an environment close to friends. If you feel the need, however, you know my mailing address.” Imogen sniffed, pointing his nose up in the other direction.

 

Adrien seemed unperturbed by the response, his smile never seeming to falter.

 

“Oh yeah. You’re totally gonna miss me.” He teased some more, earning him a half hearted glower. The gesture only earned him a small snicker. “Maybe I’ll send you a postcard.”

 

“Do as you wish.” Imogen waved a hand, “Though, I must ask on a serious note.. have you spoken to anyone else about this? I don’t suppose it’s uncommon for youth to travel alone, but it wouldn’t be remiss not to announce this to someone …” older, reliable, _not him_ , “authoritative?”

 

To that, Adrien leaned back again, chewing on his lip absently.

 

“...Nah. That’d just be a pain in the ass.”

 

“Language, please.”

 

“ _A pain in the ass._ ” Adrien repeated, earning a hard look from Imogen. He rolled his eyes at the older boy. “Look, I know you’re trying to be helpful but I’ll be fine. So, yknow, don’t worry about it.” Adrien shrugged, tapping his foot against the carpet. Imogen stared at him a moment, then:

 

“You just decided you were leaving.” It wasn’t a question, but Adrien gave a slow nod of confirmation anyways. “You haven’t even planned for this. You haven’t told Desiree either, have you?” His question was met with another shrug.

 

“It’s more fun as a surprise, don’tcha think?” Adrien glanced at his companion with that mischievous look in his eyes. If anything, Imogen had to admire his carefree determination, even as he had to wrestle the urge to roll his eyes.

 

Imogen spared a glance to the grand clock in his room. They had around thirty more minutes of their session together before Adrien would be escorted home. Before he’d ‘make a break for it’. Perhaps it was that realization that pushed the words out of his mouth the next moment; a sort of foreign desperation to cling to something he had no right to cling to;

 

“Adrien, before you leave, I have a..” his throat seemed dry all of a sudden, but he forced himself to continue, “proposition for you.” He pushed the longer strands of his bangs behind his ear. Adrien looked at him curiously, a brow raised: “Let’s hear it.”

 

He could feel his face warming before he even said anything. Could feel his stomach churning with uncertainty. But he’d already started, and a gentleman never left his business unfinished. He all but stumbled over himself to get it out: “I would like to try performing fellatio on you.”

 

This time, when silence fell upon them, it was heavy and confining. He couldn’t help but feel he’d just done the single most stupid thing in his entire sixteen years of living. The dense air was cut with a sharp budding laughter from the boy beside him; dubious and amazed all at once.

 

“You - _what_ ?” Another laugh bubbled forth, nervous. Imogen steeled himself, hands gripping tightly over his thin knees. “Fela - you mean - I mean, _what_?” Adrien babbled, flustered by the sudden proposal. Imogen picked his head up and in a more sure tone, repeated himself.

 

“I would like to engage in fellatio with you.”

 

Adrien balked at the restatement. “I - um - _Huh_?”

 

Imogen could feel the tips of his ears reddening. He pursed his lips tightly, spinning on Adrien with knit brows. “I want to give you a blowjob..!” The psychic all but yelled, further startling Adrien.

 

Adrien gave a slow blink at his companion’s flushed face, finally seeming to notice that yeah, he had totally heard him correctly. All he seemed to be able to get out was a small “ _seriously_?”

 

They retained eye contact for a good minute before Imogen lost his nerve. He ran his hand through his hair, smoothing it back over his ear. “Nevermind, I was out of line; please accept my sincerest apologies.” He stood abruptly, intent on leaving for the balcony. His murder-mystery novel suddenly seemed much, _much_ more interesting than before.

 

“Hey.” A sweaty palm enclosed around Imogen’s wrist, but he didn’t seem receptive to it. “ _Hey_ ! Hold on, just - _hold on a minute_.” Adrien pressed him, not unkindly, as he released his grip on the older boy. Imogen did as he was asked, but didn’t turn to face the other teen. “I didn’t say no.”

 

That, however, had gotten his attention. Imogen lifted his head, turning just enough to give Adrien a surprised look. In turn the blue haired boy ran a hand through his locks; uncertain but with an air of .. excitement, maybe. Imogen couldn’t tell and he could hardly hear Adrien’s thoughts over his own thrumming blood.

 

“Kinda surprised _you_ would say something like that, but yknow, I’m not _averse_ to it.” Adrien tried to lighten the tense mood that had settled between them, even going so far as to quirk a tiny smile. Imogen looked from Adrien to the clock; twenty five minutes. He gulped down around the lump in his throat, hands tight fists at his side. He gave a short nod, turning fully to face Adrien.

 

“Sit down.” Imogen ordered gently, awkwardly following the younger boy to the chaise. Adrien fell back on the firm sofa, hands fidgeting with his frayed jeans. Imogen stood in front of him for a minute, biting his lip. “You’re… sure?” Adrien nodded quickly, as if he didn’t want to second guess himself. Imogen promptly lowered himself onto his knees, his hands splaying over Adrien’s knees tentatively. He chanced a glance up at Adrien, finding the boy sitting rather stiff as he stared down at him. It was an awkward position, but not wholly uncomfortable.

 

“Um,” The teen shifted, dark eyes darting to the door, “we should lock the door, or something. Yknow it’d just be really awkward if your mom came in with you doing, that, and it’s not like it’d be weird for me I guess, _whatever_ , my mom’s used to it but you’re like all prim and proper and stuff so-” The boy rambled, nerves raising his voice. Imogen was almost touched that he was thinking about his pride in front of his family. He followed Adrien’s gaze to the door, lifting a shimmering hand. With a flick of his wrist the lock resounded. He looked up at the other boy, “Better?”

 

Adrien nodded again, words seeming to fail him for once.

 

Imogen returned his hand to his thigh, fingertips gently brushing against Adrien’s. They exchanged a muttered “sorry” and “s’fine”. Imogen curiously pawed at Adrien through the front of his jeans, moving his slender fingers towards his fly. Adrien’s hands had awkwardly left his jeans in favor of the sofa cushion beneath him, his own fingers curling into the taut fabric. His breath seemed to hitch when Imogen began to pull at his zipper.

 

“Imogen, wait.” His voice came out in a hushed rasp, like he was about to tell him some sort of secret. Imogen obeyed, looking up at him inquisitively. Adrien’s face seemed to grow a few shades pinker at the attention. “Do you.. dya think you could do it with your telekinesis?”

 

It took the older boy a minute to interpret the request. He looked back at his previous task, light eyes glowing with power as he focused; an interesting way of undressing someone, he supposed.

 

“Was that sufficient..?” Imogen’s eyes cleared up, another reproachful glance upwards. Adrien nodded, a slow explanation coming out lamely; “I just.. wanted to see if you could.”

 

Imogen ducked his head, suddenly feeling shy. His hands rubbed up Adrien’s thighs, causing the boy to shudder in anticipation. Adrien slowly spread his legs out a little more, cautious of giving Imogen more space to work with. The older boy moved closer than, a hand reaching haphazardly for Adrien’s cock. Imogen breathed in as he pulled it out of his pants, giving it an experimental stroke. The boy above him sucked in a breath, the feeling of someone else holding him new and foreign. Imogen rubbed his thumb over the head, loosely rubbing Adrian with his somewhat clammy hand. At least he wasn’t a nervous sweater. _Thank Arceus for small miracles._

 

He worked his hand over the boy’s half hard dick, trying to coax him into a full on erection. Adrien absently wiped his own hands on the sofa, trying to grab an area that wasn’t wet with his sweat. He licked his lips as he watched Imogen give him a hand job, a sort of intoxicating danger helping to give him a hard on.

 

Imogen leaned forward then, hand grasping the base of Adrien’s cock as he swiped his tongue out; just barely letting it glide over the head. The strange feeling of hot and wet set another shudder throughout Adrien’s gangly form. Taking that as encouragement, Imogen licked at him again, bolder this time and the next. Adrien gasped lightly, shivering as Imogen took him into his mouth.

 

The older boy pushed some stray bangs behind his ear with his free hand, giving the tip of Adrien’s erection a light suck. Adrien bucked at the feeling, one hand finding its way to Imogen’s white hair. His fingers tangled in the boy’s mane, appreciative yet terse. The sharp pull at his scalp urged him on and Imogen tried to swallow another inch of Adrien. His tongue pressed flat against the underside of Adrien’s cock, lightly flicking over the vein there and causing the hand in his hair to tighten on reflex. He was pleased to hear Adrien’s breath come out in shallow spurts, already feeling it.

 

The hand not wrapped around Adrien slowly snaked its way down his own stomach to his pants. Imogen hesitantly rubbed at himself, shifting on his knees at the feeling. He wasn’t one to touch himself frequently, least of all in the presence of someone else. After a few half hearted attempts at stroking himself Imogen quit and rest his hand back on Adrien’s thigh. In a way, he couldn’t help but feel guilt coiling itself in his stomach instead of pleasure.

 

Adrien bucked his hips again, the soft pants he’d been trying to bite back quickly proving too forceful for him to hide. He let his head loll back against the frame of the couch, his other hand switching from the cushion to the purchase of Imogen’s thick locks. Imogen braced both of his hands against the other boy’s thighs as he began to push forward more frequently. He shut his eyes, trying to focus on taking as much of Adrien into his mouth without gagging.

 

“Fuh - _shit_ , Imogen,” Adrien panted, fingers brushing through the older boy’s hair as they pushed him further down his length. Wet noises and grunts quickly filled the room, tiny mewls coming out muffled around Adrien’s cock. Imogen lifted his head up and down at an irregular pace, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked. Adrien bit at his bottom lip, feeling his need for climax rising.

 

A sudden knock at the door startled them both.

 

“Adrien, darling, your chauffeur is here to fetch you!” It was Imogen’s mother at the door, her voice shrilly sweet.

 

Meanwhile, Adrien had grabbed onto Imogen with all his might, hips spasming as he came into the older boy’s mouth. The sudden thrill of having someone at the door seemed to have pushed him over the edge, his mind blanking as he rode out his climax in the confines of Imogen’s clenching throat. Imogen, for his part, was doing his best not to pass out from lack of air.

 

The door rattled as Imogen’s mother tried to open it.

 

“Imogen? Sweetpea, your door is locked!” She stated, scandalized. Her son didn’t ever lock the door on her; couldn’t, really. His parents were always in control after all.

 

Imogen patted dazedly at Adrien’s stomach, his throat working to swallow everything that he’d dumped into his mouth. Adrien released him when he came back to himself, face redder than it’d ever been. Imogen took a great heave of air, raising his fist shakily to cough into it.

 

“O-one minute, Mrs.Walsh!” Adrien’s voice cracked as he shouted, his heart clamoring in his chest. He sent a frenzied look of apology towards Imogen, who was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked every bit as flustered as Adrien was. The younger teen swallowed heavily, unsteady hands tucking himself back in and redressing.

 

“Sorry,” Adrien whispered, as if Mrs.Walsh would hear them.

 

Imogen shook his head, still knelt in front of him. “I-it’s fine.”

 

Adrien bit at the inside of his cheek, trying his best to breath normally.

 

“I --- I have to go.” He stood up on legs that felt too much like jelly, patting himself down and running his hands through his hair in an attempt to tame it. Imogen raised a hand and Adrien took it, helping him to his feet. They stood there for a moment, awkwardly holding each other and saying nothing.

 

“So.. about that postcard. I’ll uh, send you a really nice one.” Adrien rasped, coughing off to the side. Imogen clung to him more tightly, pressing his face into his shoulder as he laughed.

 

“No. No, you won’t.”

 

It’d almost been too quiet for Adrien to hear. His brow creased as he tentatively grasped Imogen’s arms, looking at him as if he’d just said the strangest thing.

 

“Uh, yeah, I will.”

 

Imogen stilled a moment, shoulders stiff at another insistent knock at his door.

 

He raised his head to look Adrien in the eyes, his own crystal blues shining with that same power from before. “I’m .. I’m sorry.” Adrien began to recoil at the sight, but Imogen held them there; meshing their lips together in a way that was only capable by guileless teenage boys. He pulled away, whispering another apology to Adrien. “You won’t remember this.”

 

“I won’t remember this.” Adrien’s voice wasn’t his own. It was mechanical and obedient.

 

Imogen pulled away, wiping at his eyes.

 

“...I’m sorry, Adrien.”

 

He sat down at his balcony table, picked up his book and waved a hand in Adrien’s direction. As soon as Imogen had moved his hand, Adrien seemed to come back to his senses, dazed for a moment. Mrs.Walsh knocked once more, her shrill voice raising in concern. Adrien looked from the open glass doors leading to balcony to the shut door, brow knitting together in clear confoundment. He opened it and was met with an exasperated Mrs.Walsh. The old woman quickly ushered him out of Imogen’s room, going on about how they’d been “quite rude for making her wait!” Adrien spared a quick glance back before he disappeared.

 

Imogen held onto his book, eyes unfocused as they stared at the blurring text. He and Adrien weren’t friends. They didn’t have much in common nor would they have ever hung out if it hadn’t been for the sake of their families. It was better this way, Imogen rationalized.

 

“..’m sorry.” Imogen intoned, his tight grip crushing the paper of his book and tears blotting the ink.


End file.
